#also while I was writing this a few weeks ago

[cheesesandwichsanto]

The Letter

Summary: You find a letter in Eddie‘s room

Warning: none

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: English is not my first language

If you enjoy the story; likes, reblogs and comments are really appreciated 🖤

It was like every other Friday evening after Hellfire Club.

He called you the moment he was back home.

You drove over to Eddie’s trailer.

You both ordered some food, watched a movie together and smoked one on his porch, while talking about everything under the sun.

He crashed on the couch while you slept in his bed.

You both had been best friends since kindergarten.

He was just one year older than you.

You were inseparable ever since.

But when puberty started, everything changed for you.

You saw him in a different light.

You didn’t saw the boy with messy hair, leading some so-called cult, living in a trailer park that everyone saw.

You saw a handsome man with long flowing curls, passionate about his hobby and the person he truly was.

He didn’t put on an act for others.

He was seen as the town’s freak, but you just as a regular girl from creative writing club. (Which you, honestly, just joined because Eddie convinced you. So you could help him write his lyrics.)

He repeated senior year for the second time, you repeated it for the first time.

So you hoped you could graduate together and leave this shitty town behind.

The moment you fell in love with him?

It was when you were at Corroded Coffin’s band practice at Gareth’s garage, waiting for Eddie to finish and go to the new taco place in town.

You observed him playing his guitar, and seeing him pulling those strings with his silver rings on his fingers during his solo, with his tongue peeking out to focus, and his curls up in a messy bun, it did something to you that you couldn’t explain.

You couldn’t look at him the same anymore.

Normally, girls were into boys like Steve Harrington or Billy Hargrove - the pretty boy or the bad boy.

But not you; you liked the nerdy metalhead living in Forest Hills Trailer Park.

You knew that he had a thing for Chrissy Cunningham in middle school.

He told you, and it brought an aching pain to your chest.

It didn’t help when you saw them in the woods a few weeks ago during break, sitting on the bench, talking and laughing.

Friday evening

You picked up “Ghostbusters” from Family Video, while Eddie ordered some pizza.

After the movie, it was time for your weekly smoke session.

“Can you grab my lighter? It’s on the green box left shelf” He yelled from the living room, before he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and went outside to sit on the porch.

You misheard him, thought he said ‘in the box’.

You looked for the green box, (how are you supposed to find anything in this mess?) grabbed it and opened the lid.

Inside were some pictures of you and Eddie.

One where you both were barely 10 years old, his arm around your shoulder, in your grandma’s garden.

Him grinning from ear to ear.

Another one with Eddie and you dressed fancy.

You both were 13 and it was Snowball, where he didn’t want to go at first, but after you bickered for the 7465th time, he gave in.

And he ended up having more fun than you, but he would never admit that.

But there was also a folded piece of paper underneath the photos.

You were just nosy by nature, so it would be unfair to you not to open it.

You took a seat on the bed and folded it open.

It was Eddie’s handwriting.

You would recognize this scribble everywhere.

To my dear Y/N,

If you're reading this letter, I’m probably dead, or I maybe finally grew some balls to tell you how I feel. Hopefully, it’s not the first. If its the first one, please take care of my guitar.

You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life.

Do you remember that one time I picked you up from Robin’s? It was raining outside, and I felt like shit for letting you wait. But you didn’t even care. You were soaking wet, but when you got into my van you burst out in laughter, because you said I had a booger sticking on my cheek. (It was glaze from a donut. I still swear) - that was the moment where I wasn’t able to deny my feelings for you. I know, weird. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, so hopefully you feel the same. I don’t even know what I am writing here. So I come to the point:

Sweetheart, I’m in love with you

Your guitar god,

Edward Munson

You put the paper down and started at the wall, but got interrupted by a voice.

“You read it, didn’t you?” Eddie said, standing in the doorway, scratching his chin and sounding slightly awkward. You nodded slowly.

“Eddie… why have you never told me about how you feel?” You asked back confused, wrinkling your eyebrows.

“Why would a girl like you, be with a guy like me? Come on. You’re out of my league anyway.” He mumbled, looking at the floor of his room.

“Don’t say stuff like that… you are the most important person in my life.”

You got up to stand in front of him.

“And I … feel the same Ed’s” you whispered nervously.

“Seriously?” his brown eyes turned big.

“I do.”

It took everything in you, to do what you were doing next.

You reached for his face and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

He pulled away, stunned for a second, but then he kissed you again.

After a while, it was you who pulled away, your lips millimeters away from his.

“I really, really like your letter by the way, guitar god, I always knew there was some kind of poet inside you, even if it was not easy to read your scrawl” you said teasingly, taking a strand of his hair and twirling it around your finger.

“Oh shut up” he said laughing “I’m fucking embarrassed that I even wrote that cheesy thing, you should burn it”

“I’m happy you did. And I will frame it, and put it on my nightstand next to my bed.”

[unlikeable-female-character]

Gabby and Laura and Logan (and Wade) (he barged his way in I couldn’t stop him)

I have no real clue where I am going with this but I’m enjoying writing it -

Logan and the girls settled in and for the first few weeks you saw them regularly in the street, always a cheerful hello from you to them and back again. The girls started school and your leaving for work would sometimes coincide with them reluctantly dragging themselves into their father’s truck to be dropped off.

‘Not fans of school, huh?’ You called across one morning.

The weary look Logan gave you indicated that no, no they were not fans of school, backed up by Gabby’s shout of

‘Because it’s boooooring’ then pulling a face that indicated that yes actually she would rather be dead than have to sit through algebra thank you very much.

Of the two, Gabby was the more lively, often skipping across the road to say a bright ‘hi!!’ if she was in the yard and saw you. Laura, though always polite when you spoke to her, held back. She was watchful, constantly alert for something that you couldn’t quite determine. You assumed she was just protective of her sister, filling the gap left by the loss of their mother. You found yourself feeling for this quiet, guarded young girl. You hoped she was okay. She clearly loved and was loved by her father and sister but still you worried.

Speaking of their father, despite Angela’s sneers that he was raising two feral animals, Logan appeared, to your eyes at least, to be handling single parenthood with a brisk efficiency. The girls clearly adored him, and he them, despite frequent battles of wills between them all. But they were all navigating a loss, both together and separately, no one would be able to remain all rainbows and sunshine all the time.

After the first night you often saw Logan standing outside the front door, cigar in hand, just enjoying the peace that lasted for as long as it took him to smoke it. You never felt it was your place to intrude, to interrupt this moment but you knew that he was aware of you. A nod of the head, a raised hand if he saw you at the window, if you were outside at the time another brief ‘good night’ might be uttered. A moment of connection across that twilight street that was yours and his alone.

Your mind often wandered back to that…feeling you felt the first day you met. When he laughed and you felt something inside you melt. Logan was handsome, no one could deny that, and he was well built, kind and considerate as well, a quiet intelligent man who cared deeply for his daughters. Discovering you like to read he’d invited you in one afternoon to see if there was anything of his you’d like to borrow, and your heart had skipped a little to see the wall of bookshelves in the lounge stuffed full of books, some orderly, others just pushed in where there was space. You’d thanked him and told yourself that any attraction you felt was merely because of his library. And absolutely nothing else you repeatedly told yourself.

One afternoon, later than usual, you pulled into your drive, tired from another long day. Eyes sore from staring at a computer screen for hours while your boss had a meltdown over something that he should have dealt with days ago but forgot about then blamed everyone else for. You turned off the engine and just sat in your car, eyes closed, to enjoy the quiet for one second.

Tap tap. Taptaptaptap. Your eyes jerked open and you jumped to see a man stooped next to the car, tap tap tapping on the window. He smiled when he saw you look at him and in a very forward moment opened the car door and held out his hand. You were too shocked to do anything but take it and step out of the car

‘H…hello?’ You stammered.

‘Hi!’ The man beamed. His face was scarred, all of it, from the top of his bald head, down his neck and under his shirt. His…pink unicorn shirt….? Also his hands, similarly scarred. For a man who had clearly gone through a massive amount of trauma at some point in his life he was surprisingly chipper.

‘Wade Wilson,’ he smiled, shaking your hand. You hadn’t realised he was still holding it.

‘What…can I help you with anything Mr Wilson?’ You asked

‘Oh god Wade please,’ he chided, ‘we’re basically neighbours’

Your eyebrows shot up

‘We are??’

‘Well I mean technically no but you do live across the street from my bestie and I am going to be visiting as much as I can because this place is ADORABLE. I do miss my Peanut and his little Peanuts,’ he stared across at Logan’s house.

You’d followed his gaze. A rather beaten up Honda Odyssey was parked at a very skewed angle across the drive way and a small, very odd looking dog was snuffling around on the front lawn, occasionally peeing on anything that it found interesting.

That interest was intensified when Logan’s truck pulled up, only just stopping in time so as not ram into the back of Wade’s car. The girls jumped from the truck and ran to the dog, Laura scooping it up in her arms and both she and Gabby showering the odd creature with hugs and kisses.

‘Uncle WAAAAAAADE!!!’ Gabby shrieked as she spotted him and bolted across the street, launching herself onto the man and hugging him so tightly you could swear you heard his bones crack

‘Well hello my little honey badger,’ he smiled, squeezing her back.

Laura followed, the dog still in her arms and gave Wade a more restrained but no less meaningful hug. Logan, you noticed, had not as yet joined the welcome.

You watched him get slowly out of the truck and glare over at the love fest for this strange man and his dog, a look of resignation on his face. He slammed the door with rather more force than necessary and stalked over. He stopped and briefly fluffed the little hair the dog had.

‘Girls, take Mary and go inside,’ his tone brooked no disagreement and they immediately complied.

You found yourself standing awkwardly between the two men, one grinning from ear to ear, one looking like he was ready to wipe not just the smile off his face but his head from his body.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Logan growled.

Oh.

Yes he had actually growled.

‘Just wanted to come and see you, Peanut,’ Wade said brightly.

‘You should have called first,’ Logan muttered, ‘you’re not staying to dinner’ and turned on his heel to head into the house.

You watched him go, mouth open a little.

‘Yes I know,’ Wade said, ‘it’s sight to behold isn’t it?’

‘What is?’

Wade nodded to where Logan had slammed the door shut.

‘Canada’s ass,’ he sighed.

Before you knew what was happening you had been swept into a hug.

‘SO good to meet you finally. Logie Bear has told me so much about you,’ you rocked back as Wade planted you back on the ground, and he sprinted across the street. You watched as he tried to open the door only to discover Logan had locked it. As Wade started hammering on the door and yelling to be let in you thought it best to leave them to their…wherever the hell it was.

It wasn’t until later that Wade’s words came back to you

‘Logie Bear has told me so much about you’

First you wondered if Wade ever called Logan that to his face and how well that went. Second…Logan had been talking about you? To the point where his very odd friend decided he want to meet you? Wade didn’t say that Logan had been talking to him about the new house or the girls’ new school or even the neighbourhood. You. Just you. As you sat at the kitchen table a plate of spaghetti slowing congealing on the table in front of you, you weren’t sure what to make of it all.

It was clear that this Wade guy was a family friend, the girls certainly seemed to adore him. Logan’s attitude was…semi murderous if you were honest. He definitely growled didn’t he? That was a growl. But however much Logan apparently wanted to kill him Wade seemed entirely unbothered by this, to the point of obliviousness.

Your reverie was broken by a knock at the door. You were surprised to see Logan standing on the other side of it.

‘Hi,’ you said, ‘everything okay?’

‘Yeah everything’s fine,’ he said quietly, ‘just wanted to apologise for earlier. Wade…Wade is a lot and I didn’t know he was coming over so I couldn’t warn you. He shouldn't have bothered you like he did.’

‘Oh. Well you didn’t need to do that’

‘Fairs fair,’ he said, ‘you warned me about that old bit…Mrs Morton,’ he corrected himself.

You smiled at him

‘Honestly I’d rather deal with five Wades than one Angela Morton’

Logan went a little pale and wide eyed. Clearly the thought of five Wades was too much for him to bear.

‘I mean he seems nice,’ you shrugged, ‘quite exuberant’

Logan nodded slowly

‘Yes he is definitely that…’

Your curiosity was getting the better of you. Should you ask Logan about him talking to Wade about you? How do you even ask that question - oh hey so I heard you’ve been talking about me all good I hope hahahahaha also why have you been talking about me so much. No. No you couldn’t say that.

‘So how do you guys know each other?’ You asked instead

Logan took a long time to reply. Too long if you were honest.

‘We worked together. Long time ago’

‘Oh. Well the girls obviously think he’s pretty great,’ you said smiling.

‘Yeah well…kids don’t know any better. I’ll see you, sorry again’

And with that he abruptly turned and headed off back to his house. Well now you were even more confused. And even more curious. Before you really knew whet you were doing you called after him

‘Logan!’

He stopped and turned

‘What?’ He didn’t look pleased but, well, screw your courage to the sticking point and all that

‘Um well it was just Wade said you’d talked to him about me?’

Logan stared at you for longer then felt comfortable

‘Fuckin’ shit stirring…’ you heard him mutter though you weren’t sure you were supposed to, ‘it was nothing'

'Long way for someone to come for nothing,' you pushed

Logan looked at you then away again.

'Just...don't pay attention to him, he talks a lot of crap and loves drama. I told him about everyone here so,' he waved his hand indicating the whole street, 'it was nothing special'

And with that he turned again and was back inside before you had a chance to ask anything else. His front door slammed and that was the end of the discussion.

As you lay in bed later that night you couldn't stop thinking about his words. Nothing special. Story of your life.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I admit I'm curious, do you sometimes take a long time to answer questions? How come your answers are so detailed and great, if you sometimes take a long time to research certain topics? I wonder if you still have questions from months ago that you haven't answered yet? And you answer so many answers a day and many of them are very detailed.

It depends on what the ask is?

I of course get asks requesting lore compilations, to analyze scenes or characters, or to explain certain things, which are what take the most time to research and write. I can write multiple drafts or go back to edit the post several times. In some cases, I automatically know the answer (due to how much of the Twst lore I’ve hyperfixated on), happen to have irl background knowledge on a topic that can help, have a friend who knows, can give a quick or simple response to a quick or simples question, or have already answered a similar ask and can just link back to it. It helps a lot that I’ve been in the fandom since Twst first launched in March 2020 (so I’ve experienced a ton and have had the time to marinate in it).

I also get plenty of asks that don’t require a ton of brain power, like people wanting for my opinion, discussing their own thoughts and ideas, or just being silly. It’s not all seriousness and calculations here!

Part of it is also just the illusion of frequent activity 😭 It may look like I’m responding to 3-6 asks every day, but I’m NOT actually writing most of those responses the very same day they go live. In some cases, it could take me a few days to several weeks to put out my reply to an ask.

I don’t know if this is uncommon knowledge or not, but Tumblr has a queue function which allows you to make posts and schedule them to automatically go up at a later date and time. I use this function a lot, it’s a godsend!! And there can be anywhere from 30 to 90 asks queued at any given moment! If I happen to find a sliver of free time in my day, I just chip away at asks and slap them into the queue so there’s always some activity to look forward to while we wait for the next major update ^^

I do have asks from months ago (heck, even years ago) I haven’t answered, but it’s mostly because it’s not feasible for one person to respond to hundreds and hundreds of asks. Some of them are no longer relevant, don’t warrant responses, violate blog rules, or I just have no interest in answering. I have the ability to pick and choose what catches my fancy to bring to the public to discuss.

[delucadarlingwriting]

Vampire Divorce Court - Striking Matches Burns Fingers

Man, writing has been a hell of a task lately. This has been marinating in my docs for a while, because I like having two parts done before posting one, but...Yeah, I'm doing it now. I've got the next one done, though it needs a bit of work. I'm still figuring out the outline for part 10. Part of me feels like I need to go back and replay the games a bit, just so I'm not constantly second guessing if I've written them OOC or what.

Anyway! I did have fun with this part. Mason and Barbie barking at one another while getting absolutely zero communication done is very fun for me. Plus, I love Kira.

Summary: Mason really wishes he could backpedal on the whole Barbie-coming-to-help thing.

First | Previous | Part 8 | Next

Word Count: 3,610

***

Book 1, Haley’s Bakery, early morning

There’s not much good about this mission, but Mason can at least appreciate that Barbie seems to want to be away from him as much as he wants to be away from her. She’d been gone when he came down for his break from babysitting the detective just a few hours after snapping at one another. He couldn’t catch her scent at all either, so she must’ve left right after he’d gone inside. No telling where she went or what she was doing, only that Adam had determined someone needs to keep an eye on her. Mason’s glad the commanding agent chose to tackle that project himself.

He’s doubly glad that Farah had elected to leave the subject well alone as they wandered the quiet town. That didn’t stop her from chattering about anything and everything else, but Mason’s more than used to tuning other people out. That is, until she suddenly says, “Adam’s texted.”

“What about?” Mason grunts. He’d just dug out his carton of smokes, but finding only a quarter left inside, he shoves it back into his pocket. The sky is just starting to turn pink, the quiet buzz of life starting to grow around them. If he’s going to make it through the day, he’ll need to ration them out.

“We’re going to meet up with him, and then we’re going to go meet up with Nat, Kira and…Well, you know.” Farah eyes him, but he doesn’t give her anything to read off. Other than annoyance, but that’s practically nothing. “Think you can manage it?”

“Shut up,” he snaps. Farah snorts and shrugs.

“Alright. Come on, he said he’d meet us near that park in the bougie part of town.” She flounces off, her enthusiasm to meet up with Adam grating against his dread for meeting up with everyone else.

Adam is waiting for them when they arrive, and after greeting Farah, he looks to Mason. At Mason. Like he’s making sure there are no cracks. Mason just takes it until Adam leads the way to wherever they’re going. He hadn’t been listening when Adam told them.

While he’d denied needing anyone to arrange shifts so he doesn’t have to be around Barbie, Mason is starting to regret that now. It’s done though, so he just has to suck it up until it’s done and she leaves. Adam falls back as they approach the bakery, and Mason nearly does too when he spots the back of Barbie’s head through the huge windows.

Farah looks up at him when his next step is off cadence, but he pretends not to notice and keeps going. It’s not as if talking about it will help anything, no matter what she and Nat think. He pushes through the door, Adam catching it as Farah slips through, following the both of them in.

There’s only one enormous table in the place, but luckily no other customers. Nat’s on one side, facing the door, while Kira and Barbie are hip to hip on the other side. A fact that has Adam growling quietly. Admittedly, Mason has his own hesitations at the sight. No vampire that’s as hungry as Barbie has to be should be anywhere near humans. Let alone the human they’re supposed to be protecting.

Mason heads straight for the chair at Nat’s side, throwing himself down on it, while Farah takes the one next to him. Adam doesn’t bother, standing tall with his arms crossed right behind Barbie’s chair. She doesn’t look at him though, nor does she look at Mason. She continues the conversation as if she hasn’t even noticed either of them at all. Fine by him.

The rest of them talk, but Mason isn’t paying attention to what they’re saying. He’s doing his best to tune everything out. It’s damn near impossible though. Ever since she arrived in this town, Mason swears he can feel her, despite the ways in which she’s changed.

She smells different now. Indescribably so, considering he can still recognize her scent as being distinctly Barbie. Her heartbeat is quiet and sluggish, enough to be alarming for a human, but it may as well be a drum beating against the inside of his head. Loud enough that he barely notices the baker woman coming up behind them all.

“Anything I can get you?” she asks, terribly cheerful as she wipes her sugar dusted hands against her apron. Mason turns to glare, but pauses first to look her up and down. Her heart beats fast, faster still when she meets Mason’s eye.

“We’re fine,” Barbie says, her voice slicing through the moment. Her eyes are wide behind her glasses when Mason looks over, like she managed to surprise herself with the vitriol in her voice. “I mean…We—We’re—”

Nat jumps in to fix the situation. She turns to the baker and smiles. “We don’t need a thing, but thank you.”

The baker looks confused, stuck between offense at Barbie’s response and flustered at Nat’s. She settles on an awkward smile, a nod, and beats a hasty retreat for the kitchen.

“Wow,” Farah says with a snicker. “I see how you managed to charm Mason’s pants off.”

“That’s hardly a difficult task,” Barbie mutters, staring down as she folds and unfolds a paper napkin on the table in front of her. Mason leans forward against the table, but he’s cut off from responding by Nat.

“Kira had a question,” Nat says, gripping the conversation in an iron fist before it can go down the drain any further.

The detective, cradling a mug of something dark and bitter in her hands, hesitates for a moment as if forgetting the question herself after that whole exchange.

“Um. Yeah. I guess I was just wondering about…” She looks over toward the counter, but Mason can already hear the baker starting up an industrial mixer in the back. None of this will be overheard. Kira pulls her long, strawberry blond braid over her shoulder, twirling it around a finger as she talks. “The thralls that attacked us. You said they’re people, right? Humans?”

Nat nods. “Residents of Wayhaven, in fact.”

Kira’s face scrunches up unhappily. “But no one’s been reported missing.”

“They wouldn’t be,” Mason says. “He can’t control them without being at full strength.”

“At night,” Barbie elaborates before Kira can ask. “Otherwise they’re just themselves. Normal humans, living their lives.”

“And they don’t know what he’s done to them?” Kira asks.

“Not a clue,” Farah replies. She shifts, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“Well, I want to check on them,” Kira says, jaw set.

“We are already keeping an eye on them,” Adam says, his tone saying without words that that should be the end of the conversation. Kira dismisses this idea and continues.

“It’s my job to keep them safe,” she says, turning to look up at him. “I know I haven’t done a stellar job so far, but that doesn’t mean I can just shrug off my duties and give up.”

“I’ll go with you,” Barbie says, gently laying a hand on Kira’s. Every other vampire stiffens at the gesture. “I’d like to get an idea of the sort of people Murphy has been targeting, and if there may be a connection to be found there. Where he found them may be an indicator of the locations he’s been working around.”

Kira beams, way too grateful for what’s being offered. Adam’s eyes shift behind his sunglasses, looking quickly between them as he realizes he’s rapidly losing control of the situation.

“Mason,” he says sharply. Mason’s shoulders drop.

“Seriously?” he asks. Adam stares at him.

“It’s fine,” Kira says, giving Mason a concerned look that he curls a lip at. She shakes her head at him. “Barbie will be with me, I don’t need another babysitter.”

“Yeah, Babs being with you is like, the whole problem,” Farah says. Barbie flinches, looking away as if she hasn’t heard when Kira gives her a questioning look.

Unsure of what possesses him to do so, Mason interferes. “Yeah, you need a real babysitter. So one of us.” He gestures as briefly as he can manage to the rest of Unit Bravo.

At his side, Farah starts peering at him closely, and he can practically feel how she’s trying to pry at him. So he throws an elbow into her side, making her squawk indignantly.

“I’m not a field agent,” Barbie adds on across the table, eager to pounce on the opportunity Mason’s given her. “I wouldn’t be of much help in a dangerous situation.”

Surprised, Kira says, “Really? But you’re also a…”

Looking nauseated, Barbie holds a hand up and shakes her head. “I’ve never been good at physical activities, and that’s as true now as it ever was.”

“All but one, at least,” Mason says. That earns him a swift side kick to the ankle from Nat, along with a stern glare. He growls at her for it, but doesn’t retaliate. No need to start breaking shit and get yelled at for that too.

Kira’s hiding her distaste with a very quick swig from her mug, while Barbie goes a pale pink, her sluggish heartbeat picking up its pace for a moment. He doesn’t think about why she doesn’t blush as deeply as she used to.

“As much as I’m certain Kira and everyone else here appreciates your insight, shall we keep things professional?” Barbie grits out. Mason just grins toothily, enjoying how it makes her let out a frustrated sound and push back from the table. Kira scrambles to follow her lead, pausing only to dust the crumbs from her skirt.

As Mason is hauling himself up, he hears keys jangle in Barbie’s hand. The idea of being stuck in a car with her and the detective makes him want to scratch all his skin off. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Naturally,” Barbie says breezily as she walks past, as if he was being presumptuous by suggesting there was any other option.

Why does he even fucking bother?

***

Book 1, Near the outskirts of Wayhaven, Mid-morning

They show up when he's on his second cigarette. Kira wrinkles her nose as soon as she’s close enough to catch the smell.

“Put that out,” Barbie demands, frowning at him.

“You're one to talk,” Mason says, taking a long, deliberate drag.

“I refrain from doing it around anyone it can damage,” she replies, jerking her chin toward the detective. He cannot summon enough of a fuck to give, considering he’s not exactly huffing in her face. Barbie flinches, the way she does every time he meets her eye, but she doesn’t back down.

Mason sighs and stubs the cigarette against the bottom of his boot before flicking it into the bushes. Kira watches it sail through the air, glares at him, and then stomps off to go fetch it. Barbie crosses her arms and arches a drawn on eyebrow at him.

“Are we here to watch thralls or skip around the woods?” Mason snaps. From behind a bush, Kira pops her head around with a chastising expression.

“We could be watching them already if I didn't have to chase down your litter.” At Mason’s impatient groan, she adds, “This is protected land!”

“That must be part of why this place is so lovely,” Barbie says, as if she has ever gone hiking or appreciated nature in her life. Mason leans back against a tree, doing his best to ignore the way the bark digs into his skin.

“Oh, Wayhaven’s the best!” Kira exclaims, again unseen as she hunts. Eventually she emerges, cigarette butt in hand. Barbie holds her hand out toward her, a cotton, embroidered handkerchief laid over top of it. Kira delicately places the cigarette there, and Barbie folds it up before slipping it all into her pocket.

“Can we go now?” Mason huffs. Barbie flutters a hand at him.

“Well go on, you’re the one who knows where to go,” she urges.

He remembers a time where he liked her decisiveness, the way she didn’t hold back on telling him exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. Now though, it rankles. He’s tired of every goddamn thing being on Barbie’s terms.

The women exchange glances, and Barbie says, “Well?”

Fuming, Mason swings around and stomps onward. It’s not a real path, but by this point he knows the path of least resistance through the uneven earth and brush. He pushes a branch sticking out in front of him out of the way, letting it go once he’s past it. It swings back, and there are dual yelps of surprise behind him, followed by a sharp, “Mason!”

He smiles to himself and hastens his pace, if only to hear Barbie grumbling as she tries to keep up while wearing heels and a tight dress. The detective isn’t nearly as thrown off, which he almost finds respectable.

Eventually they come to the spot Mason’s used on and off for the past week to keep an eye on the thralls here. Not all of them live in this area, but two are neighbors. Probably targeted for the ease of it all. He crouches down, settling in for a long, boring watch when Kira emerges with Barbie stumbling along behind her.

“Have you spotted them already?” Kira asks. Mason nods and gestures to houses below.

“The ones there, with the red brick,” he says. “The other two are on opposite ends of town, but these ones are easy to watch.”

The detective comes close, smelling distinctly of fragranced soap. It makes his nose itch and his eyes water, but he does his best to ignore it. Eventually, after watching squint for several seconds, he realizes she can’t see the thralls moving around in their houses through the windows.

“They’re in there,” he says. He can’t hear anything at this distance, not over the wind in the leaves.

“What are they doing?” Kira asks. This though, she aims at Barbie.

“I can’t see either,” Barbie replies.

“But you’re…” Kira trails off, then gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I know you said you’re different.”

Understatement of the fucking year, there. Mason doesn’t say it out loud, but Barbie glares at him anyway like she already knows that’s what he’s thinking. He doesn’t like that she still knows him well enough for that, while he feels like he hardly knows her at all anymore.

Before the quiet can settle in, Kira asks, “Is that why you wear glasses?”

Barbie laughs, the noise like a punch to the gut. “Oh God, no. These are fake, just plain glass in frames. They actually make it harder to see sometimes.”

“Oh,” Kira says. It’s clear she has a thousand questions, while Barbie seems to regret saying as much as she did.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen a thrall before, so this expedition is quite exciting,” Barbie says quickly. While it doesn’t wipe away the curiosity in the detective’s eye, she follows Barbie’s lead anyway.

“Never?” Kira asks. Barbie shakes her head.

“No. Not even in all the time I worked with Unit Bravo.”

“So you worked with them before?” Kira asks. Barbie looks at Mason again, but he isn’t offering any easy answers this time. So she sighs and nods.

“Yes, I work with a variety of teams who need my help, but I used to work most closely with Unit Bravo before I was transferred,” she says.

That makes Mason snort. “Really? You’re calling it a transfer?”

“Do you really want to get into this right here, right now?” Barbie snaps, her gaze cutting over to Kira and back again. Having her stand over him, looking down her nose with every hair in place makes Mason itch all over. He stands, just to put himself on equal footing with her.

“I don’t give a fuck if the detective hears about it, and you’re the one who brought it up in front of her,” Mason says. Barbie rolls her eyes and it makes Mason’s head start spinning.

“Perhaps I don’t feel the need to air out my dirty laundry. Though Lord knows you probably have!” Barbie shouts. Mason steps closer, nearly bouncing Kira out of the way.

“Guys, easy,” she says as she scrambles to her feet, but neither vampire is really hearing her.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mason demands. Barbie meets his eye fully.

“You have no shame and no decorum,” she says. He blinks.

“Is that news to you?” he asks.

“Don’t speak to me so flippantly,” Barbie says. Mason snorts.

“You think I’m flippant? What about you?”

“What about me?” Barbie crosses her arms.

“At least I actually give a damn about the people I’m supposed to care about,” Mason says. “You can’t handle your goddamn vanity being wounded to the point of running to another fucking continent to hide away.”

Barbie moves then, arm coming up before freezing somewhere just above her hip. She closes her eyes, breathing deep as she pinches her nose with the hand she was certainly about to slap him with. Mason almost wishes she’d tried, even if he’s not sure exactly what he’d do about it.

“Mason, if you think the only problem I have with being a vampire is looking like this,” she says, as if she’s some sort of horrible, mangled thing, “then divorcing you really was the best thing I could’ve done.”

Before Mason can even begin to come up with something to say to that, Kira shoves her way between them.

“Okay, come on. Enough. You’re just finding things to argue about.” She looks between them, keenly taking in all this new information, while also wanting to stop either of them from continuing. Which is just as well, as Mason’s throat has gone so dry he doubts he could say much anyway.

To hell with this, Adam can come babysit if he really wants someone to watch the detective.

Of course, before he can even will himself to move, Barbie steps away first.

“I doubt I can glean much just from observing them as they are now,” she says, fussing with the buttons on her coat. “I’d be better off completing the files the Agency wants on them, which I can do with my laptop and a printer.”

“I have a printer at my apartment,” Kira says after a moment. “You can use that one.”

“Wonderful,” Barbie says flatly. She’s gone the next moment, stumbling back through the trees.

Mason curls and uncurls his fingers, itching to run after her and…

And what? What the fuck does he even want with her anymore? He thought nothing. It should be nothing.

Everything is too bright, too cold, and too damn much. He turns away to settle back on his haunches, ostensibly to observe the thralls, but if he's being truly honest with himself he isn't absorbing a damned thing. The detective settles in beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“That was…a lot,” Kira says haltingly. Mason snorts.

“That’s nothing.” One of the last conversations they had before she ran off, he and Barbie had screamed so loud at one another that Elidor had had to use his magic to separate them. At least Barbie wasn’t cursing his name down for the next century.

“Still, arguing with someone you used to be with can’t be fun.”

Mason rolls his eyes. “You’re a real genius, huh?”

“I guess she hasn’t always been a vampire?” Kira asks. Mason ignores her, but that doesn’t stop the detective from continuing. “I’d ask her, but she seems to get upset when she has to talk about being one. That plus some of what you guys just said…”

“No, she was turned,” Mason says, suddenly too fucking tired to tell Kira to mind her business. Answering her questions will, with any luck, get her to shut up faster.

“Did you know each other as humans?”

“No. I was a vampire, she was human when we met.” Mason stands again, stomping his feet to try and get some feeling back into them. Bloody fucking cold. It’s always worse this close to the ocean.

“But she turned before you two broke up,” Kira says. It’s not a question, so Mason doesn’t answer. Besides, he doesn’t really want to even think about Barbie turning, let alone talk about it. If he had his way, she’d be just as human now as she was then. Nearing the end of her life, sure, but not miserable in her existence either. It’s what he’d been preparing himself to deal with ever since they decided to give being a couple a try.

“What does any of this have to do with the thralls?” Mason snaps. Kira shrugs. Just when he thinks that’s the end of that, she piped up again.

“How do you turn people into thralls?”

Mason scoffs. “I don’t. I can’t. Only natural vampires can. And no, I’m not explaining anything else about that.”

To his surprise, the detective’s response to his acerbic words is to laugh. She rests her chin on her knees.

“That’s fine,” she says. “I don’t mind sitting in silence.”

Relief floods him, as that’s all he’s really wanted the whole time. Even if the silence isn’t really silence, between the wind, the birds, and the squirrels darting around barking at one another, it’s better. He can think more clearly. Even the sound of Kira’s breathing isn’t so bothersome.

As time stretches on, he finds the presence of Kira in general isn’t as bothersome as it once was. He might even enjoy it a bit.

Next

[kierancaz]

Crowley Having To Be A Dad For Once (Crowley Comforting Yuu)

I don’t know what this is, I was just really bored and it happened so if it sucks I’m sorry. I used they/them and she/her pronouns throughout the whole things, idk neither sounded right if I used just one set of pronouns so I just used both T_T.

Also yah ik Crowley is ooc bc he’s basically a deadbeat uncle but this is MY fic and I’m a SUCKER for parental Crowley and the idea of him not really being good at it at first but as he grows to care about Yuu more he becomes more willing to try and be a good parent for them.

No trigger warnings, ig this is fluff? Uh probably not very good but it’s ok I still hope u like it. Oh and this takes place at the end of Book 6, also reader is referred to as Yuu.

It was finally over. Everything was finally ok. Grim was back with Yuu, all of the people who had been brought to Styx were back in their dorms, a little banged up, but safe. Yuu was finally home with the people they considered their family.

Crewel, Trein, and the others had given them a major scolding when they got back. Being sure to pull Yuu aside into the headmasters office to yell that them specifically, but Yuu couldn’t find it to be mad or even upset with their scolding. Yuu couldn’t be upset when she felt cared for again. The only one missing from that meeting was Crowley, but Trein as assured that he would be back soon. Which brings us to where they are now.

Grim was in Pomfiore sleeping soundly, but Yuu was standing in the wreckage of Ramshackle. Staring the remains of their only home here in the face. She knew it was bad, the remembered it all from the Chirons attack, but somehow seeing everything destroyed after the dust had finally cleared after the whole situation made reality hit that much harder. She took a deep stepping through the door looking around at all the damage.

“Yuu!” The ghost came speeding toward them, they couldn’t hug her so instead the just zipped around her a could times. She laughed, the ghost coming to a stop in front of them, “we’re so happy you’re back! We thought you guys were leaving us for good!”

“Where’s Grim?” One of them asked looking around with concern, the others followed suit like maybe he was just hiding.

“Don’t worry he’s fine, he’s back in Pomfiore sleeping off his big adventure.” Yuu chuckled and the ghost relaxed and smiled, happy to hear their little friend was safe and sound and would be back with them in no time.

Yuu looked around again, at the huge holes in the walls and ceilings. At the stray cauldrons that had broken the floor and the way the stairs that lead to her bedroom were completely destroyed. She pressed her lips into a line, tears starting to well up in she eyes.

“Yuu? What’s wrong?” One of the ghost asked. And that’s what did it, she broke down crying.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out wiping her eyes and trying to breathe even. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry your home is destroyed, I’m sorry I can’t do anything about it—”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s not you’re fault.” One of the ghost said. Yuu just shook her head, crying to hard to say anything coherently. There wasn’t much the ghost could do besides remind her it wasn’t her fault the house was destroyed and that it’ll be rebuilt and everything will be ok.

“Yuu?” The new voice made her go still and the ghost silent. Turning around Yuu saw none other than Crowley standing in the doorway.

“Oh- Headmage- I, uh,” Yuu struggled to wipe their eyes free of tears and steady her voice. She hiccuped as she tried to breathe but with a deep breathe she was able to sound at least somewhat normal. “Sorry headmage, is there something you need?” She asked, turning to face him fully.

“I- no. I was just making my rounds on campus to see the damage. Trein informed me Ramshackle was badly damaged, I can see he was quite right.” Crowley said as he walked through assessing the damage, stoping when he came to stand beside Yuu.

She chuckled weakly and sniffed, tilting her head down and swiping at her eyes again. “Yeah… yeah, sorry.”

Crowley gave a questioning hum, “what’s there to be sorry for?”

“I- I don’t know… just am,” they said, their voice quiet.

“Yuu,” Crowley said. His voice more gentle than usual, more concerned. “Are you alright?”

There was hardly a second after Crowley asked before Yuu practically launched themselves at him, throwing their arms around him in a tight hug. Crowley stumbled back with surprise, his arms raised awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Yuu was crying again. She just felt so powerless against everything. There was nothing she could do to fix her dorm, there was nothing she could do to stop the Chiron’s from taking the house wardens, nothing she could do when they took Grim. All of the feelings she had been pushing down for the sake of staying focused during the whole Styx mess finally boiling over.

“I- I guess I’ll take that as a no…” Crowley said tentatively.

Yuu apologized again, but couldn’t seem to bring herself to let go of him. Why him she had chosen to break down in front of she didn’t know. It’s not like he had ever been a comforting figure in her time here, or even a very useful one. But slowly, unsurely, Crowley hugged her back, patting her head in a soothing manner. It was enough to make her want to cry even harder.

It was silent between them for a while, with only Yuu’s sniffling and hiccups to be heard. After a few moments Crowley seemed to relax, trying to be gentle as he hugged her back and pat her head, telling her that it was ok and Ramshackle would be fixed and her and Grim would be back here in no time at all. He didn’t know how he would do that but he would get in contact with Styx and work something out, after all they made this mess.

After some time Yuu let go, stepping away from him and wiping their tears and taking a deep breath. “Are you… ok? Now?” Crowley asked, Yuu nodded.

“Better… thanks.” The air was slightly awkward. Crowley didn’t exactly know how to recover to his normal ‘aren’t I so gracious’ personality after watching his most situationally unique student have a full break down.

He cleared his throat before walking over to them and placing his hand on their back, guiding them to the door way. “Why don’t you go back to where you’ll be staying and get some rest. You do have a place to say until Ramshackle is fixed, correct?”

Yuu nodded, “yeah I’m staying in Pomfiore…” there was a long silence, like maybe she wanted to say something else. But she didn’t. “Thanks, I’ll, um, see you in class.”

Crowley nodded and watched as they left down the steps before calling out them. He only spoke when they stopped and turned to face him. “Don’t worry about Ramshackle. I’ll handle everything and make sure it gets fixed,” he said spreading his arms, “after all I am very generous!”

Yuu just blinked at him for a moment before breaking out into a laugh. After some time they had grown to find Crowley’s antics annoying, but after the moment that just happened his usual return to form was much welcomed. She waved at him as a final goodnight and started her walk back to the mirror chamber feeling much lighter than she had before.

Crowley was left with his many thoughts standing in Ramshackle, but he didn’t dwell on anything for to long. But he would check on the prefect and Grim officially tomorrow, that he made sure to promise to himself.

Yuu snuck back into Pomfiore, back into the empty room she was staying in. Grim was exactly where they left him curled up on the bed under the fluffy duvet. She smiled as they climbed into the bed, curling around Grim to cuddle him as he snuggled sleepily back into their arms. For once though, they believed Crowley would follow through on his word with Ramshackle, and that everything would be alright.

[peasant-player]

Concept art wip part 1

Body types ~

All of the types are elven size no human!

From left to right:

Normal slim-normal buff-young celebrimbor-tall slim-tall buff-maedhros

Listen I'm having a blast with this project!!!

I make for @dfwbwfbbwfbwf very detailed-over-multiple-week-made Armor and Weapon post here !

Since I really like those game concepts arts I make my own but with feanor and his sons

But to make the whole thing easier and fun looking I make on big template I can reuse and then show off the different characters !

Something like this :

Yeah can you even see something here??

So that I can put enough details in I need to "just" tape 4 Din A 4 pages (average paper size) together or two of my din A 3. So it is going to be huge xD

I never made such a big piece of art before but I have a good plan and I will draw the different part separately and then put them on the final papers.

I can't stress enough how much joy this brings me.

Sadly it's winter season so I have alot of work to do.

The good part is with that template I can draw many different characters rather faster and all would have a similar style!

[thatfriendlyanon]

2025 IS FOR BEING BRAVE!!!!

[amiharana]

TRICK OR TREAT 😖🙌

happy halloween!! 🎃👻✨ as a treat, i'll write you a few revalink halloween hcs~

link would insist on going trick or treating even as adults, but it's because he looks so young he can pass as a teenager. revali can pretend to be his adult chaperone maybe LMAO

they could do so many couples costumes, but i'm thinking about playboy bunny link x hugh hefner revali because i was talking to my coworker the other day about how her bf wanted to be the bunny and she ended up being hugh hefner and i thought it was funny af

revalink pumpkin patch date 🥺🥺🥺 thinking ab revali posting pics of their date on his instagram later and it's all just candids of link looking effortlessly beautiful, glowing amongst the pumpkins, and also a few 0.5 shots of him and the both of them.

link carving fucking starry night van gogh into a pumpkin vs. revali making the dumb ahh punking meme

i think that revali would actually very fond of giving out candy to kids who are trick-or-treating 🥹

while link wouldn't even flinch at the scariest horror movies or them park jumpscares, revali is screaming before the scare actors even look at him

revali thinks candy corn is the work of the devil; link will eat all the candy corn they receive anyway

[impossiblepluto]

For the WIP ask… uuummm, all of them?! Just kidding (not really)!

holding baby Mac the image of a baby Mac is just 🥰

oh my goodness, friend, I am all atwitter about the image of baby Mac. This was one of the first ideas I had for a "Dalton Ranch" story, featuring Mac's first visit to the ranch, fresh from the Army and both of them figuring out each other and how to be civilians. After a nightmare wakes Mac, for the second night in a row, he heads outside to clear his head, not wanting to disturb the rest of the house, especially as he's a stranger to most of them, leading Jack to pilfer the tagline of an American-Italian eatery known for their breadsticks "the Dalton Ranch, when you're here, you're family."

Deciding they both need some fresh air and wide open spaces, Jack takes Mac on a trail ride when an unexpected storm blows up, causing them to seek shelter in an old line shack, and later revealing that perhaps this was not the first time they waited out a storm here. Here's a section of the first little tiny bit of cabin foreshadowing:

“A few years back some lady from outta town got turned around and ended up on that dirt road. We had a real big storm that year, kind of like this.”

As if on cue, thunder rumbles across the sky. 

“‘Cept it was snowin’ which was weird for that late in the season. I remember because I was on spring break.”

“So, it was more than a few years ago,” Mac mumbles loud enough to ensure he’s heard.

“Oh, yeah, funny.”

Mac smirks.

“Yeah, it was…” Jack’s brow furrows as he thinks. “Must have been about twenty years ago now.” 

“Twenty years ago I would have been one.” Mac reminds innocently. 

“Oh, you’re on a roll aren’t ya? Well, jokes on you, I think I mighta been about fourteen or fifteen so you might not have even been born yet.” 

“I guess your memory starts fading when you get to be as old as you are, if you can’t remember if you were fourteen or fifteen.” 

“Fine,” Jack shrugs. “Maybe I won’t share my story.”

“Seems unlikely.” 

“Nope. And it was a good one too, but now you’ll never hear it.” 

“Oh, no, Jack, please share your story,” Mac deadpans. 

“Well, if you insist.”

Mac snorts.

“Hush. Now, like I said, it was spring break-”

“What year was it?”

Jack makes a face, wagging his finger at Mac. “Don’t you start that up again.” 

~~~

[daughterofzeus-the-novel]

I know some of classicsblr dislikes the way Madeline Miller modernized the Illiad for Song of Achilles but I loved Circe and I'm really liking this one so far

[fabdante]

📚, 💖, ➡️, ⏳ - for the music emoji ask meme!

thank you for the ask!!

music emoji ask meme

📚 - A song or album you could write a term paper on

The Golden Age by Woodkid! I love this album like top to bottom and ironically did write a paper on Iron already. But it's a really interesting album to me, and I love its like cinematic feel and there's a lot to be said about it I think with it's themes of queerness and war.

If it has to be an album I haven't written a paper featuring yet, however, I would be very interested in analyzing Glass Animals album How To Be A Human Being like, I don't have a thesis for it exactly but I adore Glass Animals lyricism and I love this album to death and I would love to spend a paper figuring out the mystery of which song belongs to which person on the cover and why so and the meaning of the collection as a whole.

💖 - A guilty pleasure song

I will fight for Butterfly by Crazy Town (also all dubstep I like I realize people make fun of dubstep now but like look a lot of it slaps asdfghj)

➡️ - A song that makes you want to move around

Tourette's by Nirvana ! I have given myself head pain banging my head around to this song while doing tasks.

⏳ - A song you love that was released before you were born

All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix ! If it's on a playlist I'm listening to, I am always eagerly awaiting it to come on

[astro-b-o-y-d]

God, I just LOVE thinking about Jonathan. He originally was an OC for another fandom, but the idea of a character who is such a polar opposite of Bill yet also a direct parallel (he seeks control and to achieve a sense of godhood, but unlike Bill, he wants to gain it through perfection, order, and through purging the world of weirdness) is just so GOOD, so PERFECT as a villain for a follow up fic to the original show.

Unlike Bill, however, there is (probably) no redeeming this guy. I will probably go the route of not giving him a tragic backstory, he’s just an utterly fucked up human who desired order and perfection after hearing tales of the Second Dimension (from whom or where, I’m still working on those details but y’know).

Also while Bill will be revealed to be no more than about 14 in human years, Jonathan is an older, nearly-elderly man. He is calm, collected, calculating. He can command those who follow him with few words. Bill might’ve been terrifying and manipulative at full power, but he was always a silly little guy. Jonathan could be any corrupt pastor you meet at a church up the road.

I’m definitely tooting my own horn here, but I just really like the idea of ‘Hmm, what should the bad guy be after a weird little demon guy who wants power?’ ‘A real human man who wants power.’

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

taglist:

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@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[punctuationbreakdown]

About that Scientology connection...

One of the details that came to light this week in the latest article detailing the horrific allegations against Neil Gaiman (which I believe are true, to be clear, but not the primary focus of what I'm writing about here) is the extent of his ties to the Church of Scientology. I was most engaged with Neil's work as a teenager and in my early 20s, and I didn't recall seeing mention of the connection at the time (granted, that was more than a few years ago!). I couldn't let it go after reading the Vulture article, so I started to dig a bit and found a lot of information being shared on Reddit and even further digging uncovered archived forum posts from over a decade ago by former CoS members.

There are a lot of details in this article by Mikey Crotty, who appears to be an independent comics journalist, which was published by Mike Rinder on his blog in 2023. Rinder was famously an executive in the "church" in Australia and ran SeaOrg (the elite force of CoS, essentially, and responsible for internal discipline within the broader org) before ultimately leaving the organization and speaking out as loudly as he could about the abuses he had been complicit in as a member (at great personal risk, as anyone who is familiar with the tactics used against former CoS members will know).

The piece was written as an exposé about Gaiman's novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which was semi-autobiographical. Crotty discusses details about Gaiman's family, Gaiman's participation in CoS, and the coverup his father orchestrated for an apparent suicide of a student of Scientology who had immigrated to the UK and was living with the Gaimans at the time. This suicide is written into The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

Neil's father, David Gaiman, was head of worldwide communications for the Church of Scientology in the 60s, and was leading the PR spin to protect the organization from increasing legal scrutiny in the UK at the time. Around the same time, a suicide occurred while a young man, Johannes Scheepers, was living with them (the Gaiman's took in CoS students as lodgers at their home on a regular basis, apparently). The Gaiman family launched a campaign to depict him as a broken down gambler to avoid further scandal for the organization. The logic doesn't quite add up, and it's more likely that Johannes was a new adherent who had been badly taken advantage of. You can read more details in the article I linked. Crotty makes the case that not only were the Gaimans lying about the death of the student, even going so far as to claim he wasn't actually lodging with them, but that Neil then went further to spread these lies in the form of fiction decades later (we now know this book was written as a result of the prompting of Amanda Palmer, who was encouraging him to confront his childhood experiences with CoS per the article in Vulture).

The article also points out evidence of Neil's continued involvement with Scientology:

Neil Gaiman’s history with Scientology is very murky; deliberately so. His family are practically Scientology royalty in the UK, he met his first wife Mary McGrath while she was studying Scientology and lodging at Harrow House and he himself worked as a Scientology Auditor for several years in the Eighties and was a Director of a Scientologist’s property company ‘Centrepoint’ until 1999.  He now won’t discuss his own Scientology connections and states, without any details, that he’s no longer a member of the Cult that supported Apartheid up until the mid eighties, believes homosexuals are deviants and mental illness is a manifestation of personal failure in the sufferer’s current or past life; beliefs which are anathema to most of Neil’s adoring audience. His connection to Scientology and apparent departure from the cult first went public as part of a court case in 2002 where when asked “Are you still involved with the Church of Scientology?” Neil said “I don’t understand the question”, subsequently asked “Are you still a member of the Church of Scientology?” he replied “I don’t consider myself as such”. Even then his admission that he worked for the Church for 3 years is somewhat confusing: “I worked for a 3 year period after getting out of school as a ‘Counsellor’ for the Church of Scientology”; in fact he actually worked as an ‘Auditor’ in a process made famous in the award winning 2015 Documentary ‘Going Clear’ which explains how officials in the Church of Scientology keep in-depth records on everything its members say during private ‘auditing’ sessions and then use their secrets against them. Renowned Journalist and author on Scientology Tony Ortega says that Gaiman “became a Class VIII auditor, and even ran the Birmingham “org” as its ED, executive director. “. While there is no contradiction in Neil’s actual admission of working for Scientology up till the late Nineties and subsequently leaving the cult and its beliefs sometime in the early Noughties, conflicting details arise in the period since, when Neil has insisted he’s not a Scientologist. According to public records he was a shareholder in the family firm G&G Foods, which produces the vitamins used in Scientology’s highly criticized Narconon and De-Tox practices, since 2011. He transferred approximately a quarter of a million shares to Scientologist shareholders in 2013. There’s the book ‘Ocean’ also from 2013 and then there’s also his production company ‘The Blank Corporation’. ‘The Blank Corporation’ is Neil’s production company which works on all his adaptations such as ‘Sandman’, ‘Anansi Boys’, ‘Good Omens’ and the upcoming ‘Ocean at the End of the Lane’ in partnership with Netflix, Amazon, Warner Bros, the BBC and others. According to the website and any interviews, Neil founded ‘The Blank Corporation’ in 2016 with his Vice President and former P.A. Cat Mihos. According to the official Companies registration however, the company was actually set up by Neil and then wife (and still devout Scientologist) Mary McGrath in 2000. The company is still registered to a Scientologist’s P.O Box in Wisconsin, where Mary McGrath still works for the Church of Scientology. One company; two very different stories, it’s just another mystery, like what really happened to cause Johannes Scheepers to take his own life in 1968.

I want to note that based on what I've read, being a Class VIII auditor is the highest level you can go as an auditor in CoS without becoming a member of SeaOrg. Auditors are individuals who are key to the brainwashing process members of CoS undergo; they utilize the org's "technology" to identify past sins by doing intensive interrogation sessions with members. This means Neil was well trained in how to psychologically interrogate org members and held a position of relative power over them as he documented their dearest secrets for the org (primarily to blackmail them with should they ever want to leave, based on CoS records and former members' experiences).

I found forum posts where others reviewed public records that confirmed the majority of these claims, although unable to confirm the PO Box in Wisconsin. His sister, Lizzy Calcioli, is the current company director of G&G, which supplies pseudoscientific vitamin treatments to drug rehabilitation seekers that are horribly abused by Narconon (CoS does not allow actual medical intervention or medical practices in its org). According to public filings, Neil still owns shares in G&G.

There is also this interview from 2010 with the New Yorker, in which Neil claims he is no longer a member of CoS, but expresses sympathy with them:

These days, Gaiman tends to avoid questions about his faith, but says he is not a Scientologist. Like Judaism, Scientology is the religion of his family, and he feels some solidarity with them. “I will stand with groups when I feel like they’re being properly persecuted,” he told me.

It is also well known that celebrity members of CoS are encouraged/allowed to lie about their connection to it in order to support their monetary success. Because of course they're going to contribute back to the organization through that success, which it appears Neil has done.

Additionally, we know from public accounts of CoS's practices and leaked documents that once someone leaves the organization, they are not allowed to continue to associate with anyone within the cult. Isolation of former victims is one of the many tools used against them. The fact that Neil maintained a marriage for decades to an active member who still works for CoS, as well as relationships with his family members who are leaders in CoS, indicates he is either still on the books as a member or is contributing to CoS in order to avoid alienation from his family. Any sympathy a desire to remain connected with his family might conjure is misguided in my opinion, because we know that he's likely profiting off of shares in a company that takes advantage of and contributes to the traumatization of vulnerable patients as a CoS affiliated business.

Had I known Neil Gaiman was so closely connected to the "church" sooner (one degree away from L. Ron Hubbard himself as a child!), I would not have supported his work in the way that I did in the past. And I think he knew that a significant portion of his audience would respond the same way, which is why he obfuscated and downplayed those connections.

His alleged ongoing involvement also changes the way I perceive his actions - Deception and manipulation is, by former member's accounts, standard procedure for leaders within Scientology. It should come as no surprise that he will continue to deny any evidence, attempt to blame his victims, and lie lie lie to avoid potential consequences. It is, after all, the example he was given and trained in as an active participant in a destructive cult that he has never publicly disavowed and that he appears to continue to support.

I think this information should be taken into account as former (hopefully) fans react to his responses to these accusations. I wish for peace for the victims who are now speaking out, and I hope they are able to reach the resolution they deserve.

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[marvelstoriesepic]

Soft spot

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Alpine is determined to gain access to your room while you are resting.

Warnings: Bucky’s conversation with a cat lol; Bucky being jealous of a cat; fluff; feelings; Bucky is a sweetheart

Author’s Note: I just needed to write a little something and this came out. Hope you enjoy! Also, I probably will be posting the next chapter of like a Phoenix tomorrow. I wrote another fic of them adopting Alpine, home with you, if you are interested. But you can also read this as a stand alone.

Masterlist

“Nah, Alp, c’mon now.”

Bucky sets his mug of tea down on the kitchen counter with a quiet clink - he never used to drink tea before moving in with you, but living with you changed that.

The little white kitten Bucky and you adopted from the shelter a few months ago paws insistently at your bedroom door, tiny claws scratching against the wood. She lets out a sharp, impatient mewl.

Bucky sighs, before striding over to her hurriedly and scooping the little ball of fluff into his arms before she can make more of a racket.

“Alpine,” he warns, almost too firmly considering he is talking to a cat. “Cut it out, yeah? You’re gonna wake her up.”

The kitten wiggles in his hold, clearly unimpressed. She meows again. Loud. Indignant. Bucky huffs a laugh through his nose, shaking his head and scratching her behind her ear.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, glancing at the closed door to your room. “Ya miss her. But she’s had a rough couple weeks, alright? Stress n' exams, you know, the whole damn deal. She needs the rest. Can’t have you climbin’ all over her like the little menace you are.”

Alpine stares at him with those big blue eyes, as if she understands every word but refuses to accept the reasoning. Another sharp meow, this time more of a protest.

Bucky sighs dramatically, shifting her into one arm and rubbing her chin. “Yeah, yeah, don’t gimme that look. I ain’t the bad guy here, buddy. Just tryna let her sleep.”

Alpine doesn’t seem to hear a word.

Before Bucky can react, the little furball twists her tiny body and slips right out of his grasp, landing softly on the floor.

In an instant, she is back at your bedroom door, paws crawling, tail flicking, and meowing like she is under torture.

Bucky groans quietly, dragging his hand down his face. “Jesus.” He crouches down, resting his forearms on his knees as he watches her.

He reaches out, rubbing slow and soothing circles on her soft white fur. “You just wanna be near her, huh, girl?” His voice is softer now. He sighs, deep and heavy, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I get that.”

Because Alpine loves you. She doesn’t hide it - follows you everywhere, curls up in your lap, meows until you give her attention. She’s got no hesitation when it comes to showing how much she adores you.

And that is what Bucky envies.

Because Bucky loves you too. He just can’t show his affection that outright. He’s your best friend. Your roommate. And that’s the part that stings.

He would do anything for being able to show you how much he adores you without crossing the line he is afraid to.

His chest tightens long enough for him to really feel the ache and he stands up, exhaling through his nose with a resigned breath.

“Alright, you little punk,” he mutters, shaking his head as Alpine turns those blue eyes back up to him. Expectant.

Slowly, he reaches for the door handle, giving the kitten another warning glare. “Just for a quick visit, yeah? No bouncin’ on her. No wakin’ her up, got it?”

Alpine meows.

Bucky huffs, pushing the door open carefully.

The small cat whooshes past Bucky the second the door cracks open, a blur of white fur darting straight for your bed. He barely stops himself from calling out, biting back a curse as he runs a frustrated hand down his face.

Damn cat’s got a one-track mind.

But he can’t really blame her. You’re on his mind probably even more often.

He steps inside, deliberately avoiding the creaky floorboards. He’s been in your room often enough to have memorized them by now.

Alpine reaches your face and bumps her small head against yours with a high chirp before rubbing along your cheek.

You don’t stir in your sleep.

Curled up on your side toward the direction of the door, hands tucked near your face, you’re completely dead to the world, your breaths slow and even.

Bucky guesses the stress from the last weeks must have finally caught up to you because you don’t even twitch when Alpine starts licking at your fingers.

“Alpine,” he whisper-yells, stepping closer, ready to scoop the little cat up and drag her outside before she wakes you.

But Alpine starts to circle, once, then again, before settling right against your hip, tucking herself into a comfortable little ball. She lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Bucky stops in his tracks, hands on his hips, shaking his head with an amused smirk on his lips.

“You’ve got no idea how jealous you’re makin’ me right now, Alp.”

Something tugs and turns in his chest, watching the way you sleep so peacefully, completely unaware of anything. Of how easy it is for Alpine to curl up against you and claim you like it’s the most natural thing to do.

He lets out a breath, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Alright,” he utters in a whisper. “Guess I’ll just stand here like an idiot while you get all the cuddles.”

Alpine flicks her tail.

Bucky stands there for a moment, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching you.

The way your brows are at ease, your face soft and relaxed - peaceful and serene in a way he hasn’t seen in too damn long.

And oh how it calms something deep inside him.

The past few weeks had been brutal on you. It was a mess of late nights, long assignments, and that damn stubborn streak of yours keeping you from slowing down, no matter how many times he told you to.

You pushed yourself too hard - always do - and every time it drives him up the wall.

He hates seeing you stressed and he did what he could. Brought you tea, draped blankets over your shoulders when you were too caught up in your work to notice the chill. Left food by your side when he knew you’d forgotten to eat.

And you accepted it all - gave him those sweet little smiles accompanied by a thanks, Buck in that soft voice of yours that always knocks the wind out of him - but you never really listened.

Never listened when he told you that pushing past exhaustion isn’t the solution. That not having a clear head is worse than not being prepared at all.

But now you are finally resting.

For the first time in what feels like months, you are letting yourself breathe.

And Bucky feels like a weight is falling off his shoulders, a tension he was gripping finally loosening.

He exhales a deep, relieved sigh, raking a hand through his hair.

Alpine stirs slightly at your hip but stays balled up, her soft purring filling the room beside your deep breaths.

It’s then that Bucky notices the book half-tucked against your arm. You must have been reading before finally crashing, trying to quiet your mind enough to let yourself sleep.

He steps closer, cautiously, eyes flickering to your face to make sure you don’t wake up.

For a second, he worries it’s one of your damn textbooks - because if you fell asleep studying for god knows what now, he is going to have to give you some words.

But as he leans over you slightly, fingers brushing the covers and gently pulling it away from your arm, he lets out a pleased breath. Just a novel. Good.

He carefully marks the page, folds the book shut, and sets it on your nightstand.

Bucky straightens, and he knows he should walk back out - really, he should - but his eyes stay on you a little longer. He almost feels like some kinda creep just standing here, watching. But hell, he can’t help it.

You look so damn adorable with your little pout. So damn beautiful with your hair falling just so, features so soft, color in your cheeks.

His breath hitches unintentionally and his pulse skips, his heart only a trembling thing in his chest.

Taking in a deep breath, he takes a hold of your blanket and gradually tugs it up over your shoulders, up to your chin.

The fact that Alpine gets dragged along with it and the grumpy chirp she lets out gets ignored by him. She glares at him in annoyance but does not move from her spot.

“Mhm… Buck…?”

Your voice is thick with sleep, soft and drowsy, and it nearly knocks Bucky off balance. Literally. His foot catches on the floor and he stumbles slightly, heart lurching in his chest like the idiot he is.

His gaze snaps to your face. You blink up at him, slow and unfocused, brows scrunching in confusion. Eyes half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion, your voice slurring slightly.

Jesus. You’re so damn cute like this.

Bucky clears his throat, forcing himself to school his expression. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he coos in a whisper, gentle and soothing. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” He shoots Alpine a pointed look, but the cat, as usual, doesn’t seem to give a damn.

You shift slightly, nestling deeper into the sheets, eyes fluttering shut again. Without thinking, Bucky brushes his hand through your hair, over your cheek in slow and soothing motions to coax you back into sleep.

You hum in contentment. That little sound does something to him, settling deep within him.

And hell - if his heart doesn’t clench at the sight of you like this. So soft, so sweet, so damn beautiful it hurts.

A lightness swells beneath his ribs. An airy flutter dances.

He focuses on the way your breathing evens out, the way your body melts back into the bed.

And when he’s sure you’ve slipped under again, Bucky lets himself lean down, lips ghosting over your temple in the lightest of touches, giving you a soft kiss. He lingers just a second, long enough to whisper against your skin, voice barely more than a breath.

“Sleep tight, doll. You better dream of me.”

And with one last glance, so full of longing, he forces himself to pull away. He lets Alpine stay with you, despite the fact that he wants to be the one who gets to do that.

But he slips out of the room as quietly as he can, shutting the door behind him with a faint click. Leaving with you the racing of his heart you caused and the ache of something he isn’t sure he’ll ever have the guts to say out loud.

“Her, because she makes life poetry, she turns every bit of it into art.”

- butterflies rising